Another day invaded my space in the form of
warm sun rays burning through
my resin stained curtains.

Outside the city awakes town
by concrete laden town until the
whole of the city all hums as one.

Along the edge of the world the Pacific
sits as calm and still as that thick brown
layer of pollution above our heads.

The smell of baked bread makes its way up
the graffiti dressed alley ways and past the
cheap pill box apartment buildings.

The boiling pots of crab send a unseen
signal all throughout this Port side Gem of a town.

The air is once again filled with
diesel and unleaded gas fumes
as the mass grows larger high above our heads.

Someone forgot to separate the
waters from the waters.
Again rain falls as hail somewhere
in the opened sea.

Men and their machines chew up the
highways in both directions.

Some cursing into the wind and others
singing along with some God awful country song.

Cities aren't made to last forever
even Rome had to die in order to be.

I could turn my back on them all and
not miss a beat.

It's the city itself
The city full of Lost Angels, Has Beens, ******
and Godless Gangsters
that won't let me go.

I  waited out the
night,
I sat cross legged
and high
and watched
as the sun rose
in the east
and created
shapes
out of
total
darkness.

I concentrate
not on my
thoughts.
Nor feel with my
emotions.

I do not
react to that
chatterbox
within my
head.

It's the silence
in between
the pull
that captures
my attention.

At times it all fails
to make any type
of worthy sense
at all.

Watch the talking heads
talk about false
events and never question
this reality.

The lies flow like
***** undrinkable
water out of a
rusty unusable pipe.

That turtle I seen on Alma
street wasn't a turtle at all.
It was a tire.

The mind finds ways to accept
these unbelievable truths.
Even when your soul curses
your decisions
and your heart cracks in
zig-zag patterns as
you ingest more
and exhale the soot
of your experience.

Scrape away all that remains
of yesterday in hopes
of creating a better
tomorrow.

Make your own path
past the
justly stricken suffering
souls who bought into the
lie and now dance among
the angry dogs.  
Plenty of riches blind
the fools,only
one true eye controls
them all.

Make the first move
in this
war they have waged
against our reality.
Hold true
to that questioning voice
inside your head and run
towards the front,
while screaming
questions about
it all.

There's a low rumbling deep in my gut.
A still silent void where my heart had been

Scars so many scars most of which nobody will ever see .
Cork topped  bottles filled with homemade  Ointments made with tree resin , white sage ,mint leaves and bitter root.

They're closing down the Walmarts but the Pharmacies and the Security shack will both remain open.
Prescriptions are more like recommendations .
Is there truly any kind of cure.

They'll come for you when the water rises and ship you off like rescued cattle .
If you're not on the team they won't accept your help.

A drowning child won't look at your uniform or lack there of one.
There's power in numbers , strength in the ability to get along .

I started this thinking about my loneliness.
It's just enough to try and help you remember .

All my thoughts aren't always about me .

I may not
have chosen
what most see as
an ideal life.
In doing so
there has been
and will be
many of things
I will never know
the joy of.

I am not
alone upon this
broken red path
littered with
missing bricks.

There are others
who weep tiredly
in the dark.
Others who spend
their every waking hour
drinking or using .
Trying everything
cheap and easy
to fill all that
you have
thrown away

In the eyes of
the Gods we
are not
forgotten.
They do still
cast their shine
upon me.

Their way of
acknowledging
the fact that unlike
most I have chosen
the Hard way.

And even
that Hard Way
gives way to
rewards.

I rode a curb side
dust devil into
the low side of
town.
Found myself
adrift right along side
the lip stick stained
cigarette butts,
empty dime baggies and
a city days worth
of welfare diapers
and plastic bottles who
will out last us all.

Same old dogs
along the same
old streets.
Dogs so old
they no longer
lift their legs to ****.
Its a bit shameful
but a Hell of alot
less painful just
to let it go where
you lay or stand.

Bad kids with
big sticks and
fist fulls of
C cell batteries
chase the winos
along the railroad tracks.
They generate
terror and call it fun.

Televised Gods
for your televised mind.
Fall asleep with the
lights on ,leave
something to guide
me back home.

Blame it all on me
and I'll leave before
the hate sets in.
My time here is
far past due,
summers over and
the rare California rains
have come in.

I came only for the
weather and whatever
there was to drink.
Moonshine Cherries and
Jameson on ice.

The conversations all died with
that last bottle of whisky.
The mason jars are all empty
and this passing moment
feels right
for me to leave with.

I took her on her
first real trip
during the last real
summer of my life.
We chased the sour
tasting caps
with a sweet tasting
two dollar wine.
Then followed our
hearts to the sea.
We sat along the
rim of the world
and watched the sun
burn into a thousand
different shades of
red.
She concentrated on
the white caps and
the wind,
she said that the
wind spoke
to her,but never
told me what it said.
She cried when she
spoke of a childhood
memory,
then laughed at the
fact that her tormentor
was dead.
I seen ripples in
the air and
when we kissed
I felt the softness
of her hair.
We ecscaped from the
world for those few
precious hours.
Then we came down
from our now
brightened world.
and returned to it all,
our minds forever anew.
Our thoughts forever
changed,
nothing has ever been
the same,
since that
day we laughed
and tripped
on the edge
of the world.

I laid there staring
at the insanely
bright and rude
fluorescent light
that
mocked my suffering.
The cold concrete
floor felt
good against
my screaming aches.

My body was
pleading with the
Gods for just a
taste of what
had been taken
away.

My bowels were as
controllable as
a teen aged
beauty.

With a ****
I brought my
burning face
toward the cool
silent cold metal
toilet.
Ugly yellow bile
that only a tired
and tortured
body could
produce
spewed forth.

A moan and a wipe
then a hollow knock
on the graffiti
covered cell door.
"You made bail"
an almost robotic
sounding voice
says.

With a thousand tiny
swordsman stabbing
at my face I
managed to smile
into my own bile.
I looked at the
mustached uncaring
face in the
small window.
"You look like Death Pal"
The mustache says to me.

I spit the acrid taste
of day old *****
and ****** resin.
Then rise and run my
sweaty palm through
my hair in an
attempt at looking
presentable.

The mustache opens
the door and
as I walk out
I look directly at the
rogue hairs
protruding from
the mustaches nostrils
and say.
"Death Is Beautiful"

The mustache holds
the door as I walk out.
I'm feeling better already

"Oh Yea well so was my Xwife
look at how much trouble
she still causes me".
The mustache says

Every step
I take down
the institutional colored,
masonic checkered floored
hallway causes
my body
to scream with hope.

I can feel the sweat
roll down my face
but I refuse to let
this mustache
see my suffering.

We stop at the
property window,
I sign a half
of an X where it
says signature.

Then before
I gather up
my belongs
and head
back out into the
night I looked
over at the
mustache and said
"You had a Wife?"

Nothing is
Truth.
Until you've
accepted
the fact that
its all
been a Lie.

Please
Wake Up.

I'm too paranoid for *******,
not social enough for alchohol.

Speed's not for me,
you gotta give up your dreams.
And I look forward to sleep.

I disliked **** once they
made it legal.
I can't mess with the pills
unless they're the happy ones
and a girl is involved.

I thought about my first
love, my first addiction.
There's no way I can say
I'll never do ****** again.

I'm not too sure about much
but I can say this for sure.
"Maybe one day my dear
but I can't go back to you today".

She was so
far gone that
the Gods themselves
had
forgotten her name.
She had this
strange ability
to stay beautiful
no matter
how hard
she ran.

She depended on
other peoples
pills,
ate only
when she was
hungry
and once
sliced a girls
cheek with
a razor she
pulled from her
teeth.

She did
all of her
shopping
at the liquor
store and
when she
shared a stolen
bottle of *****
with me,
I knew we had
become more
than just
friends.

I stared hard at
the night.
Half drunk in
a public park
that was still so
alive with
happy memories.

As a boy I
dreamed of
becoming nothing.
Now all I long
to do is this.
The words are all so
dear to me.
They've kept me warm
as I laid in cold
jail cells and
cold hide a ways

I promised myself
to free myself of the stress
of desire and need.
And to in gulf
all of what is
left of me into
this.

Only in the dark
can one truly
see the shadow
of madness
that's always one
more drink
or one more failure
behind it all..

I used all of
whats hidden in
the night as a mirror
to the world.
Scattered images and
the sound of the
night bird.
Traces of all
that lays stark
still in the night.

I warmed myself with
the last of the bottle.
I felt the presence
of all that is left
of the wild and
untamed in the city.
The Elder trees
stood stone silent
in all of their
greatness.
A testament to
the strength
and will of nature.

I whispered thanks
to the sun even
though I
felt better without its
presence.

The sea crashed
and sounded
its rage against
the edge of the world.

And I sat drunk
and alone in a
public park without
any of the clueless
public anywhere
near.

They gave me a
29 page pamphlet on
what I can no longer
enjoy.
There wasn't one line
on what I  could
abuse.

We all have our outs,
our ways to escape
it all for a few
needed
moments.
A purpose or a
vice.

My mother has her
wine,
my father his
faith and his guns.
My brothers all
have their futures,
my friend his
Lalo.

All I have
is this,
and if it
ever leaves
me ,
if the words stop
coming.

Then what am I
but another
empty useless
soul ,taking
up space.
Fighting off the
demons,
waiting on the
darkness to come.

Its Torture.
The cruel
painless kind.
Torture,
like watching her
from the shadows
as she  
Loves her new Lover
while you're
still so alone.
Within my
mind Ive said
a word then
spelled out
in ryhm.
It sounds so perfect
within my
mind,my quivering lips
mouth the
word in silence.
Im afraid to try,
listen to my struggle
and you shall see
why it
is I hardly
speak.
Its the stammer,
the god given
gift which has
held my
opinions hostage.
Prevented me from
approaching her
and telling her
what she secretly
longed
to hear.
Forced me at times
to remain silent
when there was
so much more I
had to say.
This stammer
provides
cruel children
reason enough to be
even crueler.
I speak around certain
words and
communicate
more with the hands.
Kind souls
finish sentences
for me as I fight
for my voice.
Never  knowing that
their attempt
at being helpful
only drives this silent
knife even deeper.
This Stammer has
barricaded what
I need to say
somewhere
within that dead
and maimed space
between
my mind and
my speach.
I'm tunneling my
way out of this
self contained  
prison.
Word by
written word .
Im slowly
finding
a way for
this silent
and crippled
voice
to finally
be heard.

Its Torture.
The cruel
painless kind.

Torture.

Like watching her
from the shadows
as she  
Loves her new Lover
while you're
still so alone.

Within my
mind I've said
a word then
spelled out
in ryhm.
It sounds so perfect
within my
mind.

My quivering lips
mouth the
word in silence.
Im afraid to try.

Listen to my struggle
and you shall see
why it is I choose
to hardly speak.

Its the stammer.

The God given
gift which has
held my
opinions hostage.
Prevented me from
approaching her
and telling her
what she secretly
longed to hear.

Forced me at times
to remain silent
when there was
so much more I
had to say.

This stammer
provides
cruel children
reason enough to be
even crueler.
I speak around certain
words and
communicate
more with the hands.

Kind souls
finish sentences
for me as I fight
for my voice.
Never  knowing that
their attempt
at being helpful
only drives this silent
knife even deeper.

This Stammer has
barricaded what
I need to say
somewhere
within that dead
and maimed space
between
my mind and
my speach.

I'm tunneling my
way out of this
self contained  
prison.

Word by
written word .

I'm slowly
finding
a way for
this silent
and crippled
voice
to finally
be heard.

I'm too paranoid for *******,
not social enough for alcohol.

Speed's not for me,
you gotta give up your dreams.
And I look forward to sleep.

I disliked **** once they
made it legal.
I can't mess with the pills
unless they're the happy ones
and a girl is involved.

I thought about my first
love, my first addiction.
There's no way I can say,
'I'll never do ****** again.'

I'm not too sure about much
but I can say this for sure.
"Maybe one day my dear
but I can't go back to you today."

I'm taking my
time with this one.
I'm going far below
it all,bare with me.

The fear and
the anger level
off the risk,
the pistol and
the black cat
provide  me
with composure.

I can still see
it all,
the blood on the
floor,blood
on the memories.
Still feel the tears
as they tumble
in the darkness
of the void.

Have you ever
confronted what it
is that hurts you
in the dark.
Laughed at the
magnitude of your
needs as you fulfilled
the hard times
with all the
wrong things.

I'm venturing
deeper,
there's no turning back
now.

The last words
she said to me
still echo behind the
high.
Failures pass me by
as I remain loyal
to the hunger.

They celebrate in order
to escape.
I burrow deeper into
the tar, chase it all
down with the
cheapest bottle
of the highest proof.

The ringing
of the rush
and the calming of
the fix
taunts my soul.

I continue to
jot it all down,
I allow it to
act as a mediator
between my mind
and this hostile
world.

It pacifies these
terrors,
these desires
and allows me to feel.

I'm pulling back now
the purpose has
been served.
And still I
refuse their
pill formed
cures.

The memories
are still alive
and for this
brief moment
the pain has
ceased.

"We'll" I said before slowly hitting the burning joint I held clenched between my scared and calloused finger tips.
"I my dear am a friend of the cold",I exhaled and enveloped her heart shaped face within the cloud.
Her eyes squinted against the smoke but never left my face.
"You can call me akin to the empty.A first cousin to the cold and
uncomfortable wetness."
I ran my wrist under my runny nose and smiled.
I scratched the stubble along my chin and smiled.
The dope was always good at this time of year,I was high and the wind was warm.
Almost as warm as the opiated blood that raced throughout my tired pain free body.
She stared at me and waited on a word,a line of some false greatness to fog her mind a little more.
She blinked once and only once and with that movement in time I felt a little bad about who I was and why I was here.
I quickly recovered as I always have and filled her line of sight with a forced smile and a lazy eye brow raise.
"But be that as I may be,I am indeed in love with the warmth."
I said to her and watched her o shaped lips break into a smile.
"I like the warmth too "she said, her grey eyes now filled with hope.
"I know you do darling",I said then reached my hand out and rested it on her bony shoulder.
I managed to bring forth another smile from a place deep beneath all of what I used to be,and when I did she smiled with me.But in this version of reality she was truly smiling alone as I stood and wore the deep lines of falseness across my face.
"I know you do sweetheart",I said again attempting to sound like some type of sick caring father
"I know you do ....."

The nights have
always been the worst.
Sitting alone
with a drink
and some drugs.

Close to the
open window,
listening to
the sounds of
the night.

Passing cars and sirens,
a couple arguing
somewhere down the alley,
a whistle set loose
by one of the young
whose turn it
is now to
own the same
night that I
once did.

That slow and
lonely fog horn
sounding it's
warning every 45
seconds a quarter
mile out.

The mind filing through
the days events.
The failures
and the progressions
that weren't really
any type of
real progress at all.

Flipping through it all
in search of a reason.
Images flashing,
the infants smile
or that girls manicured
fingertips gently
along your face.
Magicly guiding
you into a kiss that you
knew meant nothing
to her at all.

Still drinking,
still using,
still counting the
seconds between the fog horns
sounds of the night.

Still trying to keep it all intact.
Mind,
Heart,
Body,
and Muse.

Waiting on a word,
a line.
Something to put
down and save
for the ages.

The nights are
the hardest,
that they've
always been.
But the night
is usually when
this magic
appears.

It isn't easy.
Once you've grown
wise enough to realize
that the little ones are the only good humanbeings .
Your back is already worn out like
well read paper back.
And your heart ,your hearts
been hardened by too many cigarettes and too many
pretty faces who always came and  went a bit too soon.

You got to hit your rhythm right before you reach the apex .
Then Like that first time we tried DMT
just sit back and enjoy the ride.

You gotta barrel through it all .
The burdens of society.
The addictions
The struggle between what you
want to do and what makes you
enough to keep her happy.

We're cursed with such a narrow perspective.
Unlike the bare butterfly who
lives out their time in all Realities.

If you dont listen to Frusciante
you might not understand me today.

Learn how to survive with the least
amount of your abilities
and call this progress.

Decay always begins once growth ends.
And there ll be plenty of dreams to **** tomorrow .

I roamed as free as
the wild green parrots
and the grandiose peacocks
all up and down
the darkest street
in San Pedro.

Our yard was without
boundaries and full of the buried
treasures of the past.
I'd spend summer days
digging in patched
kneed jeans.
Pulling from the dirt
old time cork top bottles
that once held
***** laced syrups and
other types of liquid joy.

When another ones life needed
saving the red flashing  lights
of fury lit the darkness with faint
hues of shifting reds as the
chariot of death sped past our
grand window.

The pill box shaped hospital sat
atop the hill like a morbid
kings Gothic castle.
Always overlooking
the lightless way.

Memories of our golden *****
running proudly across the canyon ,
a ***** white free roaming
hen still flapping
between her saliva,blood soaked
jaws.

Or the back street rushing
with brown garbage laden
runoff as the heavens opened
and cried rain upon the earth.

I didn't stand a chance up against
the pull of the *******
the dragon and all the
crimes and times away
it brought with it.

I laughed and fought along
side the ****** ones
and became apart of
something more than me.

I learned the true meaning
of the number 13
and earned the right to tattoo it
on my young body like the
true symbol of valor  
it is.

Life on the darkest street
in San Pedro
where the fall leaves of the
Eucalyptus
and the fruit trees burned
lasting colors of
yellow ,orange and red.

Those early years on the darkest
street in San Pedro
where my young mind took in
all the bad it could.

Coming of age on the
darkest street in San Pedro
with most of whom who are
long since dead.

My young life so long ago
on the darkest street in
San Pedro
brings about some of the
brightest memories
I have today.

Its all in the experience.
From the flower  petals
a child tosses before a bride,
to the rain water the ****** used
to get himself well again.

The Pills you thought
were good for you.
And the woman who took
all she could from you.

It makes up the hours
you spent locked away.
And those Golden days
when you had
her and she needed you.

Set here upon the Earth
to wonder, to grow.
To believe in the lies while
only dreaming of the truth.

Men as leaders set
forth the course
to keep the lies as truth
and the world as round.

Reach that age of understanding
survived their Wars
and their Drugs.
Just to be cast
aside for believing
in the truth.

Fell hard and lingered
at the bottom.
Picked up a book
and buried a friend.
Took the time to add it
all to my experience.

Watch me as
I grow.

The only way for recreation
is by spending more time
on  recreation .
Do what it is
that makes your
heart happy.

Beneath the shade of
the swaying Palm Fronds
I block out the cities worth
of screaming sirens.
And take the time to add it all
to this.
Whats left of  my Experience.

THEY SATURATE YOU DAY IN DAY OUT
EVER WONDER WHY IT'S ON EVERYTHING
EVERYWHERE YOU GO.

PEOPLE ACTING OUT
ARGUING OVER A NONEVENT.
DOING EXACTLY WHAT
THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO DO
LIKE RATS IN A MAZE.

.GET SCARED,GET ANGRY
BLAME THE GUNS
THE VERY THING YOUR LEADERS
CAN'T AND WON'T LIVE WITHOUT.

BUT YOU THE DANGEROUS
FOOLISH PUBLIC
SHOULD'NT HAVE THEM.

DO'NT ASK ANY QUESTIONS
JUST CARRY ON
GO TO WORK
EAT YOUR BURGER
AND PRAY.

THERE WILL BE ANOTHER ONE
PROBABLY TARGETING THE OBESE
AND WE'LL ALL WATCH
THIS SAME THING
PLAY OUT AGAIN.

KIND OF REDUNDANT.

Half way through the day I discovered it was a holiday.
I checked the calendar in the kitchen just to be sure.
I stood by the sink and looked out at the day
and I still didn’t feel like celebrating.

The guy next door gets drunk on
Sundays.
I watched his wife get ******* while he was at work.

I started a story the first line was this:
“A brown bagged bottle of Strawberry Hill with cherry lip-gloss around the end sat in an empty locker as the Cheerleaders cheer some cheesy ryming song”

When the Light was accepted the drunks
in the bars blocked the windows and the doors.

The dancing girl remained that pale beautiful
I watched her stumble with a broken heel dangling
off her pink manicured finger tips.

It didn’t get hard.
It didn’t become such a challenge
until I knew I was approaching the end.

A
Blackbird
chased
crickets
in the
grass.

I moved the loose
dirt around with the
tip of my shoe.
I played with the coins
and the trusted knife in
my pocket with one
hand and held
on for dear
life to the warm
beer can with the other.

I took a tentative step
forward and let the
toes of my shoes
rest upon the open
air as I enticed death
along the edge of
the world.

I stood that way
for awhile listening
to what the sea
had to tell me.
Watching what
the sky was
giving away
for free.

I drank from the
can,kept my hand in my
pocket and ran a
finger along the edge
of the blade.

I was waiting on the
sunset.
I was waiting for
that daily romance
between the greatest
of all of the Gods.
I was waiting
to witness what has
played out between the
sea and the sun at
the end of each
day since their
lives began.

I came here for
the end.
I came here for that
dimly lit
part of the
day that's just right
for mourning.

I drank as the
two Gods kissed
and one faded into
the other.

I crushed the empty
can in my hand.
Then said my
goodbyes in silence.

I took a moment
to appreciate
it all.
The delicate,bold
colors the setting sun
had left behind
smeared across
the sky.
The Misty air blowing
off the sea.
The beer buzz and
the opiates that
had thus far thinned
my blood.

I could have
stayed there
for hours.
But my beer
was empty
and one can only
say goodbye
for so long
before it becomes
obsessive..

She told me
everything powerful
always remains hidden.

I remained silent when
she reached across the
candle lit counter and exposed
her arm past the wrist as
she topped off her glass.

I showed no emotion as
she unintentionally exposed
the flesh beneath
the sleeve of her knitted
second hand sweater.

She told me how the
pills and the ***** had
replaced the priest and
the sacrificial wine.

I kept my eyes on her
drink as the ***** quivered
from the surface tension
along the rim of the smokey
highball glass.

She told me she was too fast
for love but too afraid to be alone.

I took my time with my own bitter
drink as she continued on.

She said she wanted more
sedation and less acceleration.

She wanted ice cubes for her drinks
that didn't melt so fast.

She wanted Winehouse back
and for the butterflies to come to
her.

She wanted to light up the
darkness like Goya did.

But most of all she wanted
everything she wrote down
to leave her forever.

All I wanted was to help get
her through the night.

I started by tucking my fighting
knife away and by really listening
while ignoring the marks on
her arm.

Those hurtful jagged scars
of a Cutter.

I once saved the world
on a grey and gloomy day in October.

I allowed the endless rains
to drown out what had become
of the people.

I watched as their altered bodies
vanished like stones beneath the sea.

I filled my Barge with a pair of Quetzl Hummingbirds,
two shy Monkeys, a family of Wild Mustangs and two of the last Dragons on Earth.

I brought along the Mountain Poppy to help me forget.
Marigolds for the Dead, White Mountain Sage for Blessings and the strong magical Hemp plant for more than just ropes.
Pockets full of Maize kernels and Squash seeds for starting over

As many devoted Honeybees as their Queen would allow.
Tiny fruit Bats and a pair of loyal Patterdales.
Feral Cats who trusted me and plenty of stow away Rodents who would spend their time aboard in hiding.
Cattle and Geese, Spiders and talking Parrots all made their way aboard.

I talked a Native Girl whose blood ran the same shade as my own into joining me.

I left behind the destructive ones and convinced myself it was all for the better of our future.

We waited out the second cleansing of the Earth, we passed the time forgetting what it was we had become.
We witnessed the New Sun circle above the New Earth and followed the Albatross to what was to be our home.
Our bare brown feet sunk into the pristine white sands as she took my hand leading me forward to a place no man has ever been.

We took in what was left for us to live with.
We for the first time felt what it was we had forgot.

I watched as a Quetzal Hummingbird flit before a strange Orange flower then onto the next.
The Monkeys gorged themselves in the fruit trees ,dropping seed pits to the forest floor.
The feral cats chased the rodents and the honey bees flew in a tight swarm while protecting their Queen.

Our goal was to forget it all and begin anew.
All we thought we knew was to be forgotten.

All was as it should be.
All moved about as one.

She asked me if
I felt bad about what
I had done.
If I was Fearful
of the sin I had
committed.

I told her
that I felt bad
all of the time.
So why should this
change anything.

I sat on the
edge of the bed and
watched her
watching me.
She paced
the room again
then sat down on the
cheap pressed wood
backed chair without
ever taking her
eyes off of me.

She looked directly into
my heavy
blood shot eyes as if
she was trying
to look inside my head.

I stared back at her
then said
In order to sin
you must fear sin.
How can I fear
something that
I don't believe in.

She asked me if
I had done this
type of
thing before.

I asked her
Why can you tell?

Tears welled up
in her gentle gray
tinted eye's.
A look
of utter
disappointment
and sorrow
shadowed her
tear streaked face.
She turned
away from
me before
she said,
Not until now...

She offered me *******.
I took the balloon from her hand instead.

Music radiating like warm shockwaves across the desert.
Found a spot next to a speaker, the bass wore over me like swells across the sea.
I took in the gas and exhaled kind of fast.

Sat back and closed my eyes and rode the waves throughout the halls of my memory.
There's a bass speaker banging against my back  and my chin has found its home against my chest.

Kids  don't do it for any other reason besides cuz its there.
There'll be a fight tonight in a narrow dirt alley with bee hives in the trees.

A slim gorgeous hand with silver rings on the thumbs pulls me from the ground and leads me toward the stairs.
Flip top cans and short dog bottles filled the empty hands of all those we passed.

I came here for a reason.
I can't remember what it was.

Too much to drink  and too many young beauties to settle for just one.

They teach the children how to share until they're old enough to buy and sell their own shares.

She offered me ******* then corrected me and said
"No this is Speed."
Again I passed on the Go and took a  balloon from inbetween her manicured fingertips.

She watched me as I put the open end toward my dry lips.
Then she popped my balloon with
a pink painted
,pointed finger nail.

"Those were mine *******."
Then she turned and walked away.

The hotel room walls
weep as the sandy hair
girl lays on her stomach
while dancing in a dream she'll
never remember.

Her skin was a ******* white
and there were water stains
on the ceiling that made out
the shape of a pistol.

Took a moment to take another
hit and murdered some more
of the hurt today.

It's 4 AM and my day never
ends.

I worked on the Whisky
because the Whisky was there.

I watched her sleep,
she slept like the dead.

To have
watched
him die
a
painful,
blood letting
death
would have
been far better
than
witnessing his
slow,sad
demise
through
that one way
entrance
and
into the
realm of
insanity.

Sitting in L.A traffic with no A.C
nodding in and out
of this constructed kind of reality.

Wondering about things like
where did the time go?
Where did my friends go?
Why so many lies?
How am I to convince her I've changed
when I've changed very little.

Cell phone rings and I ignore it.
A semi blast its semi horn and
pulls my chin away from my chest.

I'm tired but I don't sleep.
I have nightmares of a life without these
words.

Women all over this city,
can't go a day without seeing
one you'll never have.

Bar keeps and Cops talking about
politics and ball chasing men.
I stopped going to Bars once the
original Bar Fly had passed.

Going through the things I wrote
while up state in a prison cell .
Seems like only yesterday I was
longing for this city.
This city whose
toxic air , beautiful women
and cheap downtown ******  
together are slowly killing me.

Suicide's too easy I'd rather
sit it out and wait.

This traffic and these lipstick painted faces.
These hot summer days in October
and my poems all unsigned.

There's a secret and I know it,
our world was someone else's mine.

Scatter what's left of me
into the smog.
Burn me at death,
my only wish is to be forgotten.

American Mothers
whose husbands
pray to Muloc
loyal only to
their lodge.
Raise their sons
as daughters
and their daughters
as breeders.

Wealthy American
mothers
teach their infants
Mandrian Chinese.
Quietly preparing them
for the future.

The rail road tracks
dont divide this
city.

The heart of any
place lays not
within its rulers.

Bar keeps
do their duty
and keep the
highballs filled.

A single room
with a stained
matress and a
million dollar
view.

This is'nt their world
theirs is based on
comfort
and comfort
has its own
section in the
city.

That section
is'nt ment for
those trying only
to survive.

Sat down and broke bread with the
men in long white lab coats
and the women with
their hair in high, tight buns.

She kept her spectacles on when
ever we made love.

High heels clacking against
shinny waxed marble floors.

Dare there be a sound more
romantic to my ears.

It's the way it is.

You're born here.

You live here.

You long for it when
you're away.

And one day
you'll die here.

That's what home is to me.

If you insist on using
please don't ever get
high alone.

Don't be a Pig.
Never mix it with pills
or  liquor.

Always respect
what it is you are doing.

Never lose that respect.
The day you do
Death will come calling.

And there's no coming
back from death .

Trudging onward
with my sorrows
in tow.

Pursued by these
burdens that won't
let me go.

On the brightest
of days their presence
is known.

They hide in
my shadows,
I'm never alone.

Skipping ahead
like a child at play.

Attempting to flee
if just for one day.

There's hope for
tomorrow perhaps
a new start.

There's never
an ending to things
of the heart.

I found her
drunk and
shoeless,
ankle deep
in the sand
screaming
curses into the
sea.
She called the
circling Gulls her
guardians,
the bottle she
held a
sword.

I asked her
for a reason
and all she
spoke of was
the past.

She reached
to me and took
my arm,
made me
promise not
to ever leave.

I gave her
my word
which she
had already had.

These thoughts
we shared became
magic.

She opened her
arms to me
and I stepped
into her hug.
She smelled of
sweet sweat and
salt water,
a citrus scent
lingered from her
golden sun
blessed  hair.

Dismissing all
the heartache
I took in what she
had to offer.
Sandy kisses,
drunken promises
and all.
I held her tight
and quietly
begged the
Gods to never
let her go.

I placed
soft kisses along
her sand littered
deep tanned
shoulders.
She ran her
bitten down nails
along the back
of my neck.

Somewhere behind
us the world
cast judgement upon
our Love.

We sat as one
watching the children
chase the tide away.
Both of us
quietly wondering how
long this moment
would last.
Our time was now
but our time was
always ending 
as another
version of the
sun burned deep
into the sea.

I could make out familiar shapes in the darkened single room apartment.
A thin bar of flashing neon red came in through the minor separation in the resin stained curtains.
I secured the door with the cheap throw latch and the thin chain.
She heard the click then spoke from deep within the darkness.
"Is it locked?"she asked, even though she knew it was.
"Yea" I answered knowing that she needed to hear me say it in order to calm the  madness in her head.
I switched on a shadeless lamp as she nodded her head and mumbled something to the demons who lived inside of her.
She sat cross legged on the neatly made bed  picking bits of  lint off the folded pink comforter while humming a song I had never heard.
I looked her over before she had a chance to turn the lights back out like she always did.
Her bangs hung over her deep pocket eyes and her nails had all been bitten down to the flesh.
It looked like she had dyed the tips of her hair a greenish blue color.
She had one of my old Black Flag T-shirts on and baggy black sweat pants. Her light brown almost amber eyes were blood shot.
  Her blinks were slow almost robotic and she had a fresh light scratch across her chin.
She looked good compared to the last time I had seen her.
  I moved carefully across the room toward the tiny kitchen and switched on  the light.
The single bare bulb flickered itself to life as the cockroaches all fled and vanished like magic.  
  I heard her move from the bed to the door as she checked the lock.
Then click off the lamp before her hurried footsteps took her back toward the safety of her bed.
  I left the honey bun and the beef jerky on the counter where I knew she'd find it later on when she was hungry. I stopped and took a Tupperware bowl from the cupboard and placed it over the snacks to keep the roaches away.
  She had  stopped eating in front of me over a year ago.
Right around the time she made me move out.
  I found some ice cubes in her empty freezer and came back out carrying the ***** and a plastic cup.
I topped off the cup and took a moment to let the ice melt.
I swirled the cup in a clockwise motion and tried not to stare at her.
I took a swig  before handing it to her.
She took the cup in both hands without ever looking up.
She slurped her drink and released a tiny gasp as the fire burned down into her gut.
  I sat down  on the edge of the bed and waited for her to come around  like I always did.
I  leaned in toward the 13' black and white TV she never  watched and turned it on.
The television  played only static    I noticed there was no cable or rabbit Ears attached to it then wondered if there ever had been.
  I flipped through the static covered channels until  she said
"Leave it there". So I did.
  I leaned back on my elbows  and felt her hand rest on my shoulder.
I carefully placed my own hand on top of hers, she almost pulled away as I did so.
But something deep beneath  the madness that had taken her away from me stopped her. She gently stroked my hand with her thumb.
I couldn't help but grip hers a little tighter all in hopes of maybe in some way bringing her back from that child like state she had fallen into almost 2 years ago now.
There we sat almost  holding hands like the way we used to do.
Both of us staring at the static littered TV screen.  
All was silent all except for that sound of her humming that song I couldn't recognize and the static from the television she never watched.
The static that filled the air with that timeless white noise of confusion.

How can the public be so judgmental when all they know is lies.

I'll be that failure I wear that title well.
I won't cast a VOTE I'm not part of their lies nor do I support the whole deception.

I need to see the place beyond the ice where giants still build pyramids and chimeras all fear the wrath of God.

I'm headed south for the winter and to save myself from this system I'll never be apart of without a number around my neck and shackles across my heart.

I need to be where corn is eaten three times a day, siestas are expected and people are the color of the earth.
I want to die amongst the depleted Monarchs and the migrating
Quetzal Hummingbirds.

I wish to put my mind down for its final rest in a place where lies are not respected and the truth is nothing but the truth.

Somewhere thats far away from here.
A place that does'nt feel the need to claim its self the freest of the free while chained to things like laws, debts and the television screen.

I'll be where I don't speak the language and the people don't care.
I'll spend some time in old Mexico drinking away all my bad
memories, dancing with ficheras, making real Love to ****** and finding a way to start over.

A new way after I break free of the lies, bring myself to an end and build up the courage to leave you all behind.
So I can start myself anew.

Maybe its my thoughts wondering close
enough for her to feel me thinking of
those better days.

Its what's inside that attracts her.
Like a shark to bloodied water
or a gentle Moth to a deadly flame.

She knows when my heart goes
weak and my mind is preoccupied
with the visions of her when
we were both at our best.

I was the young fool who
fell head over heels in Love
with all of her.
Even the parts I knew were
bad.

That same beauty who still
finds the time throughout the years
to find her way back.

She stays only long enough to
be missed once she
leaves again for good.